Death's Fingers
by The Great Kelly The Great
Summary: A possible ending for the HP books. Lord Voldemort has won and Harry has been captured. Short and pretty depressing. PG-13 just in case.


Disclaimer: I don't own anything. K?  
  
A/N: This is kinda depressing (Kinda? The understatement of the century). It is how the last book might end (Note the word might. It's how I think it might end). And I ended it with the word scar, just like JKR is doing. Please R&R.  
  
  
  
Death's Fingers  
  
He wasn't there for a reason. When he was sixteen, Lord Voldemort had succeeded. He, Harry, had been captured. He was now a prisoner in a place not unlike what he had always pictured Azkaban to be. Dementors swarmed, along with Death Eaters. Lord Voldemort was ruler now.  
  
Because of the Dementors presence, the worst scenes of his life ran through his head. His parents dying, the end of his fourth year, the entire final battle between himself and Voldemort. Sirius dying, wasting away. His break-up with Hermione. He couldn't even remember why they broke up; all he could remember was that he had broken up with the love of his life. Thoughts of her were all that was keeping him alive.  
  
He used to share a cell, but the prisoners in it with him, Sirius, Professor Flitwick, Lupin and Fred Weasley, they had all died. Ron had been in a separate cell, for fear they would escape together. Ron was gone now too. They had all died long ago.  
  
He didn't know where Hermione was. He didn't know where anyone was. He was the only other prisoner, he might have been the only other wizard left in the world.  
  
He wanted to die. The instant the battle began, he knew. His life would be over. But he was wrong. His life wasn't over, it was worse. His wand had been taken away, so he couldn't rid himself of this living hell.  
  
At the beginning he had cried. But he didn't have any tears left. At first he had fought, but he didn't have any strength left. At first he had hoped, but hope had fled. At first he had tried, but the future never looked so dark.  
  
He stood up and looked out the window, the only key to the outside world. The moon was full and glowing brightly, but he no longer cared. He used to count how long he had been there, but it was useless. He had lost count God knows when.  
  
He heard footsteps. It was probably another Death Eater in training, coming to practice torturing him. His scar burned, the pain increasing.  
  
But it passed. The Death Eater walked past, to the cell next to his. He was too miserable to care why. But he should have.  
  
~*()*~  
  
She opened her eyes. It was night. Through her cell window she could almost see Luna. Her presence made her fell better. She picked up the rock she had sharpened into a point and gauged another tally into the wall. She had been keeping track of how many full moons she had seen. She sat back and began to count as a Dementor walked past, bringing a flow of bad memories.  
  
"One…two…three…four…" she counted, saying it out loud to block everything else out.  
  
"Thirty-eight."  
  
That was about three years. She had been in this hellhole for three years. Three years of her life wasted away, like sand slipping from an hourglass.  
  
She tried to bring up a good memory, something she had long forgotten.  
  
Her efforts were futile. She had long forgotten anything that brought any form of joy.  
  
Except Harry. She didn't know where he was. She hadn't, not for years. He could be anywhere in the world.  
  
She remembered every little detail of his face. She plucked at the necklace he had given her, a star made of her birthstone, a sapphire. But with his face came the memories of their break-up.  
  
~*()*~  
  
They were doing their homework in the common room.  
  
"Harry?" she said at the same time he said, "Hermione?"  
  
"You go first," they both said. "No, you."  
  
"Fine, we'll go together," he said. "On the count of three, okay?" She had nodded, anxious to tell him. "One…two…three."  
  
"We have to break up," they both said.  
  
"We seem to have the same things on our mind tonight," Harry observed. "But I am glad we agree. Just friends?"  
  
She nodded. And it ended. But she had already realized she had made a terrible mistake.  
  
~*()*~  
  
She let out a moan of despair that no one could hear. The walls had a spell on them, making them soundproof.  
  
The memory of Harry slipped away; a memory of her parents dying in one of Voldemort's massive muggle attacks taking its place.  
  
A Death Eater came to her cell door. Probably to torture her before they fed her.  
  
"What do you want now?" she croaked, venom seeping into what voice she had left.  
  
"I have come for practice," the hooded Death Eater said, showing no emotion whatsoever.  
  
Death Eaters in training practiced on the prisoners. Or in the singular, according to her. She was the only prisoner left here in Azkaban.  
  
"So be it."  
  
The Death Eater pulled back his hood and revealed his face. She let out a gasp, of surprise, and then of disgust.  
  
"You," she said, her hate evident in her eyes. Eyes that had lost all of the caring that was carried in them so many years ago.  
  
It was Draco Malfoy. Someone who she had once counted as a friend, but had turned around and stabbed not only her, but Harry, Ginny and Ron in the back. He had acted as a friend, but betrayed them all at the final battle between the Light and Dark side. Not unlike Peter Pettigrew betraying Lily and James.  
  
"Come here," he commanded, in a voice like solid metal.  
  
She stayed put, defiant until the end. She had done this to every Death Eater who had come to practice on her. And if one of them killed her, she would have welcomed death with open arms.  
  
"Fine, I will be back later," he said, and turned and swiftly walked away.  
  
She lay down on her bed of what was once straw and began to cry, for she still had tears.  
  
~*()*~  
  
He heard another Dementor coming, and truly hoped that he would finally be killed, because Voldemort was angry he had survived for so long.  
  
Instead it was one of the Trainees. He hoped they were practicing Avada Kedavra today.  
  
"Get up," the Death Eater commanded.  
  
He stayed down, too weak and full of despair to move.  
  
"I said GET UP!" the Death Eater shouted.  
  
Harry still didn't move.  
  
So the Death Eater waved his wand and Harry was forced to a standing position, his feet moving against his will.  
  
"Harry," the Death Eater whispered. He was stunned. No one called him by his name, first or last. He was the prisoner; he wasn't treated with any respect.  
  
"Harry," he repeated, more pleadingly now.  
  
"What?" he croaked, seemingly the logical thing to do.  
  
"Harry, it's Draco. Draco Malfoy. And I am going to help you and Hermione escape."  
  
"Hermione? She's here?" he asked, feeling joy bubble up within him, then realizing she had gone through what he had the last eternity.  
  
"Yes. I am going to help you escape."  
  
"How?" he demanded suspiciously.  
  
"Trust me. All you have to do is follow me," he said convincingly.  
  
Harry paused. He could get out of this hell, or if he was caught, he would die and death was welcome. Either choice seemed wonderful.  
  
"All right," he agreed. "Where's Hermione?"  
  
"In the next cell over. I'll bring her in here with you. In about ten minutes I will be back after I drop her off. Just follow me silently."  
  
"Okay."  
  
He sank down, the ideas of seeing Hermione and escaping in the same hour was too wonderful to comprehend.  
  
A couple of seconds later, Draco appeared again. Leading a very confused and thin-looking Hermione.  
  
Her hair was as curly as ever, now hanging limply to her waist. But it was knotted and matted. Her cheekbones were clearly visible and her robes hung loosely on her tiny frame. Her eyes had a haunted, ghostly look in them that wasn't there the last time he had seen her.  
  
But in his eyes she was beautiful.  
  
"Harry?" she whispered.  
  
"It's me," he said as he used the strength he didn't know he had to get up and walk over to her.  
  
"Harry!" she said again, louder, and flung her arms around him.  
  
"I love you," he whispered into her hair.  
  
"I love you too," she said as Draco left the cell.  
  
~*()*~  
  
Hermione was still lying on her bed of straw when Draco was back.  
  
"Come with me, or I will torture you, then make you come," he said.  
  
She still stayed put, defiant as ever.  
  
"Fine," he sighed. "I guess you are going to have to be under the Imperious Curse when you see Harry…."  
  
"What?" she said, as she jumped up.  
  
"Harry. You know, black hair, green eyes, loves you more than anything in the entire world, defeated my master countless times?"  
  
"I know," she said impatiently. "He's here?"  
  
"I just went through this conversation with him," Draco sighed. "Come with me and you'll see him. He'll explain everything to you."  
  
She walked to the bars and he opened them. He flounced out and she followed.  
  
At the cell next to hers he stopped and opened the door. Hermione looked inside.  
  
"Harry?" she whispered.  
  
"It's me," he told her, then got up, straining himself in the process.  
  
He had never been a big person, but he was smaller then ever now. His eyes were still bright green, but they had lost their spark, the liveliness that she was used to seeing in them. His hair was almost at his shoulders, and still jet-black. It had been messy before, but now it was about ready to eat London.  
  
She flung her arms around his bony frame.  
  
"I love you," he whispered.  
  
"I love you too."  
  
~*()*~  
  
She was trembling.  
  
"Are you okay?" he asked her.  
  
"Yes," she whispered after a pause. "Have you been here all the time?"  
  
"Yes. I have been right here."  
  
"But I was in the next cell over!"  
  
"I told you in the beginning of sixth year I would always be with you. I haven't broken that promise."  
  
They stayed in their embrace for a long time, arms around each other, lips pressed against each other.  
  
Draco came back, as he had said he would.  
  
"Come with me," he whispered. "And stay quiet!"  
  
They broke their embrace, whispered, "I love you," one more time and crept out of the cell.  
  
He had rounded a corner and they followed. He was so far ahead of them, he appeared to be running.  
  
"Wait," Hermione called in a whisper, hoping he would hear her. She was too afraid to shout.  
  
Draco halted and turned back.  
  
They were about ten feet from him when he shouted, "NOW!"  
  
Two-dozen Death Eaters popped up, some from behind rocks, others from under Invisibility Cloaks, others Apparated.  
  
Lord Voldemort stood next to Draco, who was grinning maliciously.  
  
"Good work, Draco," Voldemort said. "You may stand with the others."  
  
"Thank you, Master," Draco said as he kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes. He fell into the circle with the other Death Eaters.  
  
"What happened?" Hermione asked.  
  
"My dear Draco here, managed to lead you here, into a trap. Not even I dreamed you were stupid enough to follow."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Harry spat.  
  
"Draco is quite a good actor, isn't he?" Lord Voldemort went on. "He pretended to be your friend in your sixth year, and then betrayed you. He led you here tonight, where I am going to kill you. He has never cared for any of you. Not you, Potter, not your friend here, not the two redheads. No one but me. And I knew it would be your loving nature that was your downfall eventually. Just like your father. You are too trusting and loving Potter, and for this, you will die."  
  
Harry turned to Hermione.  
  
"We will be together soon," he promised. "We will meet Ron and Ginny and Sirius and my parents up in heaven and we will be together for infinity."  
  
"I love you," she whispered one last time. "I always have."  
  
"I love you too," he repeated. "More than anything."  
  
Hermione and Harry both turned back to Lord Voldemort at the same time.  
  
"We are ready," he announced to the crowd of awaiting Death Eaters.  
  
Lord Voldemort's red eyes widened a little, as if he was expecting them to try and run.  
  
"So be it," he said. "AVADA KEDAVRA!" he cried, as Harry's eyes flew shut automatically.  
  
Harry heard, rather than saw, the flash of green light come speeding toward him.  
  
He felt the Fingers of Death come for his soul, but he didn't die instantly. His life really did flash before him, every part of it. At the end he saw Hermione, clearer than ever.  
  
He heard Voldemort shout, "AVADA KEDAVRA!" again, and heard Hermione fall to the ground beside him.  
  
Harry died, finally at peace with the world, because he had Hermione.  
  
And thus ends the story of the Boy Who Lived, a boy who was separate from the rest of us, though it wasn't apparent. He looked like the rest of us, but he had a destiny. And he was destined to die, all because of a lightening-bolt shaped scar.  
  
  
  
A/N: Please R&R. Is this good? Do you like the ending? Huh, huh, huh? Do ya? Tell me, PLEASE?!?!?!?!?!? NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 


End file.
